I had a secret: I fell in love with my uncle, though we shared no blood relation.

When I was twenty, his fiancée stumbled upon hundreds of love letters tucked away in a drawer. My secret was laid bare.

She forced him to send me abroad for my studies, hoping to erase me from his life. But fate had other plans. A giant tumor in my abdomen forced me to suspend my studies and return home.

She seized the opportunity to tarnish my name, spreading vile rumors that I was pregnant by a foreign man. She claimed I had returned to secretly give birth.

Her venom knew no bounds. She coerced him into taking me to an abortion clinic and later locked me in the old house under watchful eyes.

In her deluded jealousy, she believed I had conceived his child while he was abroad. To punish me, she cast me into a black-market clinic, where they opened my abdomen, seeking an "illegitimate child."

Only when the truth emerged, a tumor, not a baby, did she realize her mistake. But her cruelty remained unshaken. She ordered them to stitch me back up and left me to rot in the old house, abandoned and broken.

I clung to life for over half a year, but not once did my uncle come to see me.

A year after my death, they found my decayed body in the old house. He did nothing.

No outrage, no grief. He simply continued his blissful married life, untouched by guilt.

When I woke up, reborn on the day those love letters were uncovered, I vowed to change everything. This time, I wouldn’t love him.

Without hesitation, I picked up the phone and called my supervisor.

"Professor, I’ve decided to join the field exploration team in the mountains. I’ll meet you at the airport in seven days!"

——

I strode to my bedroom door and found Monica Miller sitting at my desk, her fingers rifling through the hundreds of unsent love letters in the drawer.

In my past life, I had confronted her with anger, my emotions spilling uncontrollably. This time, I chose differently.

I approached her with a calm, confident smile and retrieved the letters from her hands.

"Auntie, are you helping me organize my desk? Don’t trouble yourself, I can handle it!"

The word "Auntie" made her freeze, her fingers trembling as she stared at me. For a moment, the love letters slipped from her thoughts.

Her eyes widened in shock and her voice carried an edge of curiosity. "What did you just call me? You’ve always called me Sister Monica before, haven’t you?"

I tilted my head slightly, giving her a knowing smile.

"Auntie, are you really still trying to keep it a secret? I overheard my uncle talking about your wedding plans with the family yesterday. Aren’t you officially my aunt now?"

Monica squinted at me, her gaze laced with a teasing charm, the corners of her lips curling.

"Really? Are you trying to flatter me?"

I nodded earnestly, my voice insistent.

"Really! Really! Really!"

She didn’t press to open the envelopes I held, but her suspicion lingered. She raised an eyebrow, her tone dripping with curiosity.

"Sylvia Peterson, are these letters written for your uncle? No wonder I’ve always thought the way you look at him is a little... unusual. You’ve got feelings for him, don’t you?"

Monica pursed her lips as if piecing together a puzzle. I knew her suspicion was directed at the hundreds of love letters, each of them addressed to the same name: Cedar Adams.

I replied casually, "Auntie, are you talking about how I look at my uncle? You know me, I wouldn’t dare meet his eyes! I’m terrified of him! Honestly, who in this family isn’t afraid of him?"

What I said was true. Even Monica, despite her boldness, had her moments of fear around him.

But my fear wasn’t born out of intimidation. I had been brought into the family when I was just eight years old and it was Cedar who raised me.

After my parents’ tragic accident, he, a close friend of theirs, took me in, refusing to entrust my care to anyone else. He had raised me himself every step of the way.

Yet, as I grew older, the innocence of my affection for him began to twist into something forbidden.

On my eighteenth birthday, I drank for the first time and the warmth of the alcohol loosened the chains on my heart. Fueled by reckless courage, I confessed my feelings to him.

His reaction was immediate and merciless. He was furious, calling me shameless and his words cut deeper than any blade.

From that day, I buried my feelings so deeply that they could only emerge on paper. Every ounce of my love lived in those letters I could never send.

I thought I had been careful, but his fiancée still uncovered the truth.

In my previous life, she used a flimsy excuse to persuade Cedar to send me abroad. When illness struck me down, she twisted the narrative, slandering and framing me at every turn.

I died a lonely, tragic death, forgotten and abandoned. A year later, my uncle finally remembered me, but by then, all that remained of me were brittle, white bones.

This time, I vowed not to repeat the same mistake.

As Monica continued to cling to her suspicions, I lifted the love letters in my hand and spoke with feigned innocence.

"Auntie, these were written by my friends for my uncle. They only met him once, but they were utterly smitten!" I added a nervous laugh as if embarrassed by the situation.

"But I was too scared to hand them over. What if he got angry and drove me out of the family? You know how terrifying he can be. And... I’m just an orphan. If I leave here, I have nowhere else to go."

Mentioning the word "orphan" caused Monica’s expression to falter. A glimmer of pity crossed her face, softening her once sharp gaze.

Sensing the shift, I pressed on, my voice trembling with an intentional hint of vulnerability.

"Anyway, even if I gave them to my uncle, he’d refuse them without a second thought. His heart belongs to you and only you! So, after thinking it over, I decided to hide the letters. But somehow, one letter turned into many and now I’ve got a whole pile of them."

Afraid she might still doubt me, I quickly pulled out my phone, showing her the edited chat logs I had prepared in advance.

The conversations were real, my friends did have crushes, but none of them were aimed at Cedar. I had carefully rewritten the records to steer clear of suspicion.

Monica scanned the screen with a scrutinizing eye. Her guarded expression softened slightly and she lowered her gaze, seemingly lost in thought. After a moment, she straightened up and smirked.

"Even if you wrote them, so what? Don’t worry. Auntie isn’t petty enough to hold a grudge against a little girl like you!"

Her tone dripped with disdain and the mocking curve of her lips stung.

I swallowed my unease, forcing myself to maintain an obedient demeanor. Perhaps my docility in this life had finally satisfied her, convincing her that I was no longer a threat.

Though her doubts weren’t entirely erased, Monica no longer saw me as a rival.

As for that "Auntie" title, it wasn’t entirely fabricated.

The family had indeed been discussing a marriage for Cedar, though not to her. They were arranging a match with someone deemed his equal.

Cedar came home late that night. Ever since my confession on my eighteenth birthday, he had made it a point to treat me with cold indifference. But tonight, to my surprise, he knocked on my door.

I had barely drifted off to sleep when the loud rap startled me awake. Groggily, I opened the door, only to be met with Cedar’s thunderous expression. His words lashed out like a whip.

"Sylvia, what nonsense have you been telling Monica? When did I ever discuss marriage with her, or anyone, for that matter?"

His gaze burned with accusation and his voice carried the weight of disdain.

"What are you scheming now? Are you trying to upset Monica and make her cry? Or is this some underhanded ploy to drive her away? Let me remind you that I’ve already chosen to overlook what happened before. But from now on, you’d better stay in line!"

He fixed me with an unrelenting glare, his words cutting deeper with every syllable.

"I warned you once, didn’t I? Stop entertaining those improper thoughts about me! I won’t tolerate any more of your antics and I certainly won’t let you meddle in my love life!"

I swallowed hard, lowering my head as I murmured a barely audible "Hmm."

Cedar’s impatience flared as he let out a sharp sigh, his glare intensifying.

"Who are you fooling with that lost little act? Do you think I’ll pity you? Sylvia, let me make this crystal clear: stay away from Monica! She’s innocent and pure, unlike you, a young woman with a heart weighed down by scheming thoughts."

With that, he turned and slammed the door behind him, leaving me standing in the suffocating silence of my room.

I let two silent tears slip down my cheeks, not for Cedar, but for the life I had lost in my previous lifetime. A life cut short, filled with tragedy and regrets too heavy to bear.

The one with a scheming mind and malicious intentions was none other than Monica.

All I had ever done was fall for Cedar in the most innocent way, but for that, I endured torment that no one should face. In the end, I died alone, abandoned and miserable.

But not this time.

I allowed myself a few tears, then brushed them away. That was all the grief I could afford to give. Soon, I would leave this place and escape far away, where none of them could touch me.

The next day, I called my supervisor. His voice, brimming with both surprise and excitement, greeted me on the line, "Sylvia, are you sure about joining the geological survey team? You do know this fieldwork will take an entire year. Will your family be okay with it?"

His reaction was expected. I had once shared my aspirations with Cedar, expressing my dream of joining the team, but he had forbidden me from leaving.

Back then, blinded by my feelings for him, I foolishly turned down the opportunity. Cedar had insisted I stay by his side, controlling my choices without hesitation.

So, when I called to volunteer this time, my supervisor’s shock was understandable.

"Teacher, I’ve thought it through. I’m an adult now, capable of making my own decisions," I replied, my voice steady and resolute. "And you’re well aware of my family circumstances. I don’t want to trouble the elders any further. If you could keep this between us until departure, I’d be truly grateful."

My supervisor had always been kind to me, treating me with a warmth I rarely received. The last thing I wanted was to complicate things for him.

There were only seven days left until our departure. By the time Cedar realized I was gone, it would be far too late to stop me.

The field survey location was kept strictly confidential. While occasional contact with the outside world was allowed, we were bound by a strict confidentiality agreement. Not that it mattered; Cedar probably wouldn’t care where I went. My absence would likely feel like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

For him, my departure would pave the way to a life with Monica, free from my supposed interference. I could almost hear the relief in his voice when he realized I was truly gone.

While Cedar was busy at the company during the day, I quietly packed everything I would need. I made sure to be thorough, leaving nothing behind that would tie me to this place.

Unfortunately, there was one issue: the last time I mentioned going into the mountains, Cedar had confiscated my ID. I had no choice but to visit the police station to get a new one expedited.

Over the past few days, I maintained a calm façade at home. When Cedar returned in the evenings, I retreated to my room, avoiding him at all costs.

Though I no longer felt anger toward him, I pretended to sulk, keeping up the appearance of being upset. It was the perfect way to prevent him from suspecting anything.

During this time, Monica came by once. She had intended to chat with me, but Cedar quickly stepped in and stopped her.

"Don't mind her. She's becoming more and more unreasonable. If she angers you again, I’ll feel sorry for you!"

He knew exactly what he was doing, speaking just to provoke me. But I didn’t give him the satisfaction of an argument.

Monica seemed quite pleased by my reaction. She deliberately draped herself around Cedar in the living room, her affection so exaggerated it could almost be seen from space.

When she noticed that I wasn’t bothered or making a scene, she even took a moment to praise me for being smarter before she left.

Days slipped by quickly and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, five days had passed.

During that time, I had completed all the necessary formalities to join the team and now there was nothing left but the wait, just two more days before I would leave.

But then, in the afternoon, Cedar returned home earlier than usual. It was rare for him to come back so early unless something unusual had happened.

When Cedar walked into the living room, I heard him ask the maid for fever medicine and a glass of warm water. Then, without missing a beat, he called upstairs, his voice thick with fatigue.

"Sylvia, come here."

My heart skipped a beat as panic rushed through me. Could he have figured out that I was planning to leave without a word?

I took a few steadying breaths before walking to where he stood, keeping my gaze lowered as I meekly responded.

"Uncle, did you call me?"

Cedar’s face was flushed, his fever unmistakable. His brow furrowed slightly as his eyes flicked toward me, studying me for a moment. Then, he spoke, his voice heavy with concern.

"Why have you been so quiet these last few days? Did Monica say something to you in private? She’s so innocent and straightforward. If she spoke to you, it’s only because she cares. She meant no harm, I’m sure of it."